When All Else Fails
by pacejunkie
Summary: Charlie returns from the jungle and tells Claire about what Desmond almost did. Angst.


**Title:** When All Else Fails

**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** Charlie returns from the jungle and tells Claire about what Desmond almost did. Angst.

**Characters:** Charlie, Claire, Desmond

**Word Count: **1531

**Warnings:** Spoilers up to 3x17 Catch-22.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Lost. Dedicated to **Tigerlily1647** who requested this scene.

They had been gone almost twenty four hours, but Claire wasn't worried, at least that was what she told herself. They had gone camping. Of course it didn't make sense to Claire _why_ people who live in tents would _want_ to go camping, or how they would even distinguish it from their ordinary lives but Charlie had been excited. She supposed it was an opportunity for some male bonding time with Hurley and Jin, and because Desmond would be there Claire knew Charlie would be all right.

She told herself that, yet after twenty four hours she began checking the tree line every few minutes, a slight quiver in her stomach she couldn't explain. Ever since Desmond told her about his visions she had kept a closer eye on Charlie, making him promise he'd tell her if he left the beach for any reason. That was how she knew about the impromptu camping trip.

She looked up again and smiled when she saw Hurley walking with Charlie a few steps behind him. They were advancing in her direction while farther off, moving away from her, she spotted Desmond and Jin.

Hurley and Charlie stopped, exchanged a few words and then Hurley turned and left as well. All that remained was Charlie, his head down, guitar and bag strapped to his back. He entered the area of the tent and removed his bag and the instrument from his shoulder without a word.

"You're back," said Claire. "How was camping?"

Charlie paused for an instant before placing down his guitar, one hand squeezing the neck. When he didn't answer Claire looked and saw that it had been damaged. There was something sticking out of the back of the neck, while the outer casing of the instrument was water damaged and cracked.

"Oh Charlie," she said. She knew what the guitar meant to Charlie. "What happened to it?"

Charlie still wouldn't meet her eyes. _He must be very upset by this,_ thought Claire and she began wondering whether Locke could repair it for him.

She was about to suggest this when he said, "He tried to kill me, Claire."

"What?" she asked, caught off guard. She looked around as if expecting to see an intruder outside their tent. "Who?"

Charlie looked at her for the first time. His expression was ghostly and vacant, as if he couldn't believe his own words.

"Desmond," he said. "He knew. He knew before we ever went out there."

"Knew what?" asked Claire.

"He thought his girlfriend was coming to rescue us. Penny. The bird in the photo. He didn't want anything to change it. So he led me right into one of Rousseau's traps."

Charlie held up the guitar again and pointed to the neck at what Claire now recognized as a crude arrow head that had been broken off at the shaft.

"It missed my head by an inch," he spat. "I think he lost his nerve at the last minute, the wanker."

Claire was speechless as Charlie put the guitar down on the ground like he was laying an old friend to rest. When he stood back up, Claire could see that his hands were shaking. She reached for his hand and Charlie sank down onto the bed, pulling her down to sit alongside him.

"I'm scared Claire," he said. "I was scared before but now---now I don't know who to trust, what to believe. I thought I at least had someone to protect me. I don't want to die."

His eyes were tearing and full of fear. Claire was overwhelmed for him and without knowing what to say she reached up and took his face in her hands. Charlie was begging for comfort, for some words of hope, but instead Claire leaned forward and kissed him.

Charlie kissed back at first and then after a few seconds he grabbed her hands and pulled away.

"Don't," he said. "It'll only make things worse. When I leave you."

"Stop talking like that," she scolded. "Nothing's going to happen to you."

But Charlie wasn't listening. He took on a far off look, retreating somewhere inside himself before he began to speak again, "Promise me you'll find someone to take care of you after I'm gone…"

Claire sighed. "Charlie, I'm not a houseplant…"

"Ask Sayid," Charlie continued, undeterred. "He'd be good…"

"Stop this…"

"And please tell Aaron about me. He might not remember."

"I'm not listening to this…"

"Give him my guitar when he's older," he said, rattling off his list of affairs. "I'd hoped to teach him to play."

Claire was growing exasperated. "Charlie, please…," she pleaded more loudly.

"Oh, and here, you should take this." Charlie reached for his Driveshaft ring and twisted and pulled to remove it. The humidity had made it much tighter than it used to be. He got it off and handed it to her with a shrug.

"It's not the ring I meant to give you, but…"

His words were the final straw. Claire shoved his hand away, sending the ring flying and landing in the sand. Charlie looked shocked for a moment, confused. Then it looked as though he were about to burst into tears. Before that could happen she threw her arms around him and kissed him.

Pushing against him, they fell back on the bed together. Charlie looked at her in surprise, and then he took her in. He rolled on top and held her close, one hand creeping up into her hair, and kissed her like he never had before. Charlie embraced her with such desperation it was as if he were hoping to leave an impression of himself on her skin. She took in every sensation; how he smelled, how he felt. Her cheeks grew wet as his tears dropped down and landed on her face. She could offer him no words of consolation. All she could do was be there.

Desmond had just returned from Jack's tent where the mysterious parachutist lay, still unconscious. Other than muttering his name, she had said nothing of her mission, or who she was. Desmond hoped she was here on Penny's behalf and was anxious for her to awaken and talk to him. Jack finally sent him away for a break when his hovering became too much. He promised to alert Desmond the minute she woke.

So he sat by his tent and watched the sunset, until he noticed Claire storming towards him in a straight line, her arms swinging at her sides, topped off by tiny clenched fists.

Desmond stood, sensing her anger across the distance. He waited until she was within speaking distance and was about to offer some kind of greeting when her open hand swung out and cracked across his face. She was a wee thing but she packed a punch.

Desmond's cheek stung. He looked at her in shock as she began railing, "Who do you think you are? Charlie told me everything. How dare you do this to him? He thought you were protecting him!"

Desmond took a step back, raised his hands in surrender and sputtered, "Claire, I'm sorry…"

Claire charged on. "You have no idea what he's going through. What this is doing to him. To us!"

"I understand you're upset…," he said.

"Upset?" she repeated, crossing her arms across her chest. "Tell me Desmond, when you decided to let Charlie die so you could see your girlfriend again did you even think of me? Or of Aaron? You're not the only one in the world you know! What would have happened if you were wrong and Charlie died for nothing? Did you think of that?"

He had thought of that. He had thought of nothing but that as he waited for the stranger in Jack's tent, the woman who was not Penny, to awaken. Claire stood by, her face reddened with rage. She was clearly expecting an answer. Desmond wished he had one to give her that would suffice, but he knew nothing would. Anything he said would only sound feeble and weak.

Desmond looked down, feeling more like a coward than ever before. "It was wrong of me," he whispered.

Claire sighed and turned away in disgust, but instead of leaving she turned back one last time and spoke through clenched teeth.

"If you're going to help Charlie, then bloody help him. If not then leave us alone."

Desmond watched, ashamed as she stomped off. From a distance he saw her visibly relax halfway to her tent, where Charlie lay on the bed, next to the crib with the sleeping child. Claire climbed into bed to lie down next to him and he opened his arms to welcome her in. The sight of Charlie gave Desmond another stab of guilt in his chest. He felt like a voyeur but he couldn't look away. They wrapped up in each other and clung, as though they were holding on for dear life.

It was then that the realization of what he had almost done, of what he had almost _become_, hit him square in the face. He would protect Charlie, no matter what. At least someone should have some happiness.


End file.
